A Long Way Down
by SkyFire2
Summary: Elrond. A sleepless night. Stars and moonlight. An unexpected twist in a legend of Middle-earth. To say more would give away the story. ;o No OCs.


Title: A Long Way Down  
Author(s): SkyFire  
  
Rating: G  
Summary: Elrond. A sleepless night. An unexpected twist. To say more would give away the story. ;o)  
Genre: Angst/Humor/Drama/??  
Warnings: AU  
  
Author's Notes: 1)Inspired by a silly stray thought the plotbunnies had while I was reading   
'elen atarwa' [FF.net storyid:812341] by Kazaera. It is a beautiful fic. Then again, I *am*   
slightly biased in favor of little-Elrond, and Gil-galad, and teary-eyed Elflings... :o) You   
don't need to read that fic to understand this one.  
  
2)Earendil 'becomes' a star at the end of the First Age. The Second Age approx. 3000 yrs; Third Age   
approx. 3000 yrs.  
  
3)Translations: (A) Ninion = nin(my) + ion(son) = "my son"   
(B) Adar = "father"  
  
4)Takes place a few centuries before FotR. The Twins and Arwen are born and Celebrian is gone,   
though none of those four show up (or are even mentioned) in this fic.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. *sob*  
  
  
  
*****  
A Long Way Down  
by SkyFire  
  
It was a fine, clear night, like so many others he had seen.  
  
And, as happened more and more often of late, Elrond couldn't sleep. He had gone to his study to   
work on some of the seemingly-neverending paperwork that went along with the ruling of his Valley,   
in the hopes that doing so would make him ready to retire to his bed.  
  
Around midnight, he signed his name to a parchment and set it aside, then looked for the next.   
His eyebrows rose in amazement as he saw, for the first time in longer than he cared to remember,   
the rich wood that formed the top of his desk.  
  
//I am actually finished *all* the paperwork?// he thought, shocked. Then another thought came   
to him. //Truly, if I *am* done it all, the others are right in that I am awake more nights than   
I sleep!//  
  
All that staring didn't make more papers appear, though, and he was still wide awake.  
  
He sighed. //Now what?// he wondered. //I do not particularly wish to go back to lie sleeplessly   
abed for the rest of the night. Perhaps a walk in the night-chill air shall do what paperwork   
could not.//  
  
With that thought, he rose to his feet and went out into the garden via the balcony-doors.   
  
Within seconds, his bare feet were drenched with dew, as were the hems of his sleeping-clothes.   
He took deep breaths of the clean, crisp air as he walked aimlessly along, his eyes closed, head   
thrown back, his feet carrying him unfalteringly in directions only they knew. A slight breeze   
made the ends of his unbound dark hair flutter.  
  
He opened his eyes and looked around him as he sensed that he was no longer alone, his eyes   
coming to rest at last on a familiar figure coming toward him from the direction of the stables.  
  
"Glorfindel," he acknowledged quietly as the other neared, then fell into step beside him.   
"Sleep eludes you as well, this night?"  
  
Glorfindel smiled softly. "Nay, my Lord. 'Tis simply a night too beautiful and clear to be   
spent in slumber. I take it, though, that you are not awake of your own desire to gaze upon the   
stars?"  
  
Elrond shook his head. "Nay. I find I can find little sleep of late. I had thought paperwork   
would help, but 'tis all finished."  
  
Now it was Glorfindel's turn to blink in amazement. "Finished? *All* of it?"  
  
Elrond nodded glumly. "I can see the surface of my desk," he said simply. "And so I thought   
that a walk might perhaps-" He paused, blinked. "Glorfindel?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What is that?" Elrond asked, pointing.  
  
They had come without noticing to a small clearing in the garden. All around the clear space   
grew rosebushes and nightflowers, the delicate scent of the nightflowers teasing the air. Thick   
green grass covered the ground of the clearing, delicate white Eleanor nestled in it, though they   
were closed for the night.  
  
The thing that Elrond pointed at was a thin cord, it seemed, of silvery grey that glistened in   
the light of the moon and stars. It dangled there, its end perhaps a dozen feet above the ground,   
and went up into the sky as far as their sharp eyes could see, and further. It blew gently in   
the breeze, and was anchored to nothing as far as either lord could see.  
  
Glorfindel studied the thing for a long moment, then turned to Elrond. "I know not," he admitted,   
a look of puzzlement on his face. "If Mithrandir were here, I would be tempted to think that it   
was one of his tricks, meant to amuse. But he is not here, and I *know* that this was not here   
yesterday."  
  
"Indeed," Elrond said, staring at it. "Look. It seems to be agitated."  
  
Glorfindel looked again. It was true. The silvery cord-thing was swaying a lot more than it had   
been. He went over to a spot beneath it and looked up. "Elrond, look! There seems to be   
something-"  
  
Whatever Glorfindel was about to say was cut off abruptly as he was flattened by something that   
slid swiftly down the line and off.  
  
Elrond hurried over to where his golden-haired friend lay on the grass, beneath... a person?  
  
Glorfindel sat up, ungently pushing away the person who had seemingly just fallen from the   
heavens. He rubbed at his sore ribs and head, both bruised by the unexpected impact, then turned   
a glare on the stranger.  
  
Seeing that glare left Elrond with no doubts at all that the Elf was capable of facing down a   
Balrog, singing all the while. That Look gave him the shivers, and he wasn't even bearing the   
brunt of it!  
  
After making sure that Glorfindel wasn't hiding any more serious injury, Elrond turned his   
attention to the other. It- he -was dressed in fashion that had been current near the end of the   
First Age. His hair was short, perhaps an inch long, and was dark as Elrond's own. The face was   
kind and weathered in a way that suggested a long time spent in the wind. His skin was very pale,   
as though he spent little, if any, time in the sun. It was not a sickly pallor, though, and he   
nearly glowed with health.  
  
"Who are you, and why did you fall from the sky?" he asked as he turned the other to face him.   
He frowned as vague memories many millenia old stirred inside his head, telling him that he   
should know this man... Elf... person. That he should recognise him from somewhere. "Who are   
you?" he asked again, softer this time as confusion painted itself across his face.  
  
He was taken completely by surprise by the hearty embrace the stranger pulled him into, nearly   
squeezing the breath from his lungs. He struggled briefly, finally managing to extricate himself   
from the other's grasp.   
  
For a moment, he could only gasp for the breath that had been denied him, but then he asked again.   
"Who *are* you?"  
  
"Ninion, do you not know me?" the stranger asked, gazing at Elrond with something akin to   
adoration. "It is I, your Adar. I am Earendil."  
  
Elrond stared at the other, unable to speak. Yes. That was it. That was what those ancient   
memories had been trying to tell him. It was. This person... man... half-Elf standing before   
him was his father, Earendil.  
  
"Adar?" he asked weakly. Then darkness closed in about him.  
  
***  
  
Glorfindel caught Elrond as he fell. A quick look was all it took for him to see that Elrond had   
been rendered unconscious by the shock. Gently, he lifted the Lord of Imladris up into his arms   
and carried him toward the House, turning slightly as he went to tell the stranger- Elrond's   
father -to follow. He blinked, stopped.   
  
Earendil was missing.  
  
Then Glorfindel heard a rustling in a nearby tree. He looked over in time to see Earendil make   
the jump from a low-hanging branch to the ground.  
  
"What-?" Glorfindel asked.  
  
"I tied the line to the tree," Earendil said simply. "Else my ship might drift away without me."  
  
Nodding as if he heard of anchoring stars to trees all the time, Glorfindel spoke. "Ah. I go to   
put my Lord into his bed. If you would follow...?"  
  
The legendary mariner nodded. "Of course," he said, falling into step beside the blond Elf. He   
reached out, gently brushed a strand of dark hair from Elrond's face.  
  
***  
  
It was nearly dawn when Elrond awoke, feeling fully rested for the first time in weeks. He could   
remember only bits and pieces from the night before. Doing paperwork. Walking in the gardens   
with Glorfindel. The night air must have worked as he had hoped, then, and sent him to sleep.   
He hoped he hadn't fallen asleep outside where Glorfindel would have to carry him back.  
  
Then he could remember the dream, a dream he had had on nearly a nightly basis during the first   
century or so of the Second Age. The dream about his father coming back to him, even though he   
knew it to be impossible. When had he stopped having that dream? Why had it come back last   
night? And why had he dreamed his father with such short hair? Earendil had always been proud   
of his long locks, despite their tendency to knot in the winds...  
  
He looked over as his bedroom door swung gently open on oiled hinges. He saw a head poke into   
the room, face turning to peer in Elrond's direction.  
  
"Ninion," the other said, a smile crossing his face. He came fully into the room and over to the   
side of the bed. "You wake?"  
  
"Yes," Elrond said, staring. It *hadn't* been a dream...? "I am awake."  
  
Earendil reached out, smoothed back a stray lock of hair from Elrond's face, his touch warm   
against the half-Elf's cheek. "I have not much time left," he said. "The night is nearly   
finished and I must away before the dawn." He smiled gently, seeing the alarm in his son's grey   
eyes. "Fear not, I shall return tomorrow night."  
  
Nodding, Elrond sat up slightly in bed, sitting back against the headboard. "How did you...?"  
  
Earendil ran his fingers through his shortened hair. "Remember the old tales, where the maiden   
who was trapped spun a rope of her hair as a means to escape her imprisonment?" At Elrond's   
incredulous nod, he continued. "I remembered those, when I heard Ereinion tell you of my exile,   
when I heard you cry because of it. It has taken me these past millenia to let my hair grow, cut   
it and twist it into rope that spans the distance between the heavens and Arda, as I have no   
magic to make my hair grow faster. I could not leave you alone, Ninion. I swear to you that I   
never meant to."  
  
"You..." Elrond could only shake his head in astonishment. A rope of that length... it was   
inconceivable! And yet Earendil had done it. For him.  
  
Earendil looked outside at the fading darkness, then back to Elrond. "I must go now, Ninion," he   
said simply. "But I *will* return." A small smirk danced on his lips. "And this time I will   
*try* not to land on poor Glorfindel."  
  
Elrond smiled, nodded. "I will see you tonight, then, Adar," he said softly.  
  
The mariner smiled at the last word, then went out the balcony-doors into the garden.  
  
That day, the inhabitants of the House of Elrond could do naught but wonder why their   
usually-serious Lord went about his duties grinning like an idiot all day.  
  
***  
  
The comings and goings of Earendil, father to Elrond, was known to but a few in Rivendell, and it   
was a secret they guarded as well as that of the Three. They knew that the Valar would probably   
be displeased at Earendil's violation of their sentence of exile, and saught to keep it secret   
for that reason.  
  
Which was why it was not widely known then or for many years after why Earendil's star began its   
nightly journey across the heavens the same as it had for millenia, but now stopped in its course   
when it came over Rivendell, only to speed across the sky, completing the last of its journey,   
just before dawning.  
  
END  
  
Notes:  
About the 'exile' of Earendil:  
"Earendil's fate is not known for sure, though it is certain he never again came to Middle-earth.   
Some tales maintain that he was bidden to sail the evening sky for ever, in a ship made of   
mithril and elven-glass, with the Silmaril affixed to his prow, shining as a beacon-star and a   
symbol of Hope to all dwellers in Middle-earth. Other legends say that the Ship was set in the   
Firmament by the hands of Elbereth herself, and that Earendil dwelt ever after in Valinor, as a   
reward for his great journey."  
-- Excerpt from the entry 'Earendil the Mariner' in the "Tolkien Companion" written by JEA Tyler.  
  
This fic went with the first theory, obviously. ;o)  
  
  
--  
The plotbunnies thought Earendil should have a happier ending to his story than to be forever   
exiled to the stars. *shrugs* They dictate, I write... and write... and write... *grin*  
  
The whole Glorfindel-flattened-by-Earendil part was what popped into my head while reading the   
other fic. That's the image that inspired this one. *grin*  
  
So, did you like? Click the button, leave a review and let the plotbunnies and I know! ;o) 


End file.
